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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29449659">Iron-sight eyes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garlicbreadbowl/pseuds/Garlicbreadbowl'>Garlicbreadbowl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallout 4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Author Is Not Religious, Depression, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Homoeroticism, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Religious Discussion, Slow Burn, Tenderness, The Graphic Violence tag is for the ghouls at the police station</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:47:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,544</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29449659</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garlicbreadbowl/pseuds/Garlicbreadbowl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s met a myriad of personalities over the years.</p><p>Scammers, fake prophets, addicts, vagabonds, rebels, farmers, farmer’s daughter caught in bed with one of his men, farmer trying to kill the guy who deflowered his kid. People stuck in the past, people who didn’t know the past, historians, the blissfully ignorant, the sullen priest and naive church goer. The harried mother and gruff father, their wild children and the moody teen. Angry civilians, scared civilians, the rare wastelander who tells them they’re doing good. </p><p>He’s met a lot of people.</p><p>Not a single one of them were like the new Initiate. <br/>~<br/>Danse’s perspective from ‘But Sentimental Boy Is My Nom De Plume’, as he slowly falls in love with the Survivor.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Paladin Danse/Male Sole Survivor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Iron-sight eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy V-day!!!</p><p>follow dandy-apple-dunce on tumblr for more fo4 content!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Reload, line the sight up with the target, fire, fire, fire, repeat till dead, change target, repeat, reload. </p><p> </p><p>It was a dance he was all too familiar with, in this godforsaken place riddled with-</p><p> </p><p>A ghoul threw itself at him, its brittle weight snapping at the force against his power armor, unable to break past the steel but damned to try. He turned, slammed the stock of his gun into its face, used the distance to put a round in its head. Another tried again, same thing. Put distance, repeat. </p><p> </p><p>Rhys yelled out over the shrieking fire, Haylen dropped her position atop the barricade and ran to him. His sole job to guard the perimeter, now.</p><p> </p><p>The roar of another wave was barely heard over the crack of his laser rounds covering Haylen’s beeline to the Knight, crouched at the steps and bleeding at his side. Damn it, damn it, damn it. </p><p> </p><p><em> Don’t let this be your last fight. </em>That little voice of survival spoke sternly in his mind, loud and clear over the screaming ghouls and gunfire. </p><p> </p><p>“Paladin, they’re coming from the west entrance!”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Turn around, see the wild-eyed blankness in the enemies’ sockets, spare no mercy nor bullet. </p><p> </p><p>The ghouls turned to him - another horde incoming, the scream on the horizon - and ignored his last two soldiers. He could take the teeth and claw. Lasers and bullets, secure his team. </p><p> </p><p>More shadows came from the east gate. The magazine was almost in his rifle, come on, come on, damn you- </p><p> </p><p>Rounds shot from the gate, unidentified wastelanders with firearms. Shit. </p><p> </p><p>“Civilians at the perimeter, check your fire!” He called out, laying another magazine into the never-ending horde. Smoke and viscera filled the air, a miasma of death and war. Shadows flitted behind him from the alley, beams tearing through the horde. The endless shrieking of ghouls, charging and falling in pain and dying and this never-ending dance, drowned out the blast of the rifles. </p><p> </p><p>Something happens during these fights. </p><p> </p><p>Your brain falls into this rhythm, where you go on auto-pilot - once you’ve gotten the steps down, thinking about it is what gets you killed. </p><p>You just need to <em> not </em> think about it. </p><p> </p><p>But something caught his eye. Broke the rhythm. </p><p> </p><p>The taller shadow stood loose, perfectly calm in the alley like there wasn’t a swarm pouring in through the cracks of their barricade. Slouched, barely trying to hold themself up, staring down the sight of their rifle, each snap of shot keeping a tally of ghouls dropped.</p><p> </p><p>They stood there, lazy and idle, lining up their shots and taking down the ferals one by one by one. </p><p> </p><p>Like they didn’t need to aim. </p><p> </p><p>It’s stupid, not something he should concern himself with when his team was down and he was surrounded by ferals, but accuracy like that wasn’t found outside the brotherhood. The figure nodded at him, turned back to the fight. </p><p> </p><p>One of the civilians threw a grenade from the alley over the barricade, swarm of body parts following its path shortly after it went off. Haylen shouted, Rhys fired, the civilians in the alley were still unidentified - focus and shoot, focus and shoot. </p><p> </p><p>The horde thinned, and thinned, and thinned, until finally he didn’t find anything to shoot. Bodies lay still on the concrete. Air went quiet. </p><p> </p><p>The rhythm dissipated. </p><p> </p><p>He stretched his neck, muscles popping with a crack as he sighed, adrenaline leaving and taking the blood-bathed haze with it. Haylen crouched by Rhys, the Scribe fretted with shaking hands at his wound, red staining the jumpsuit he grabbed at. </p><p> </p><p>But they were okay. They survived one more day. He hadn’t lost them yet.</p><p> </p><p>Lost in his relief, the presence of the civilians nearly escaped his mind. </p><p> </p><p>He turned to the alley, the shorter one poking at a ghoul with the tip of his musket with a scowl on his face. The man was more put-together than most civilians, wearing a tan trench coat and leather armor, his gun a weapon of prestige that clearly knew love and brutal firefights. His gaze was noticed, and the civilian waved with a smile and nod, suspiciously friendly and bright. </p><p> </p><p>Wait, where was the other one?</p><p> </p><p>Haylen exclaimed something, voice quivering with adrenaline but bright with surprised elation, from the stairs. </p><p><br/>
The man clad in navy-dyed leather armor kneeled, offering a medkit and supplies to the scribe, urging it into her hands. He checked Knight Rhys' wound for a moment, before Haylen assured she had it covered. The stranger smiled, nodded, and Danse caught the offering of more supplies if needed.</p><p> </p><p>Huh.</p><p> </p><p>Charity wasn’t a concept in the wasteland. </p><p> </p><p>“We appreciate the assistance, but I have to ask that you state your business.” He called to the civilian, shaking bits of bone and flesh from the crevices of his armor. </p><p> </p><p>The guy turned to him, slinging his pack back over his shoulders. He took in the Paladin for one brief second, before his eyes flicked open wider, mouth twitched into an awkward smile. </p><p> </p><p>“We heard more gunfire than we usually do. Just wanted to make sure everything was okay over here.”</p><p> </p><p>“And your name?” He asked, considering him. The man was all burn scars, sharp features, soft eyes, and the strangest accent he’d ever heard. Tall, nearly his height even with the Power Armor, all lean muscle and bony. </p><p> </p><p>The man grinned a little bigger, icy grey eyes sparkling. “I’m Boswel.” He said, impossibly sweet and gentle. </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Danse looked up from the terminal he was logging that fight on, leaning from the chair to peer down the hall.</p><p> </p><p>Haylen was laughing and smiling, animated even after the pain they’d gone through stationed here. She cackled and spoke with that civilian, Boswel, like they’d been best of friends for years. </p><p> </p><p>Boswel stood loose, leaning back with his hands in his pockets, relaxed and talking easily. The Minuteman - Preston, he learned his name was - stood behind him quietly, clearly not as social and extraverted as his companion.  </p><p> </p><p>“I’m just surprised how little Cambridge has changed.” Boswel chuckled, “Ghouls are little more than college students on a bad hit of chems. You’d take this over the week after finals, believe me. Everyone may as well have been belligerent shambling corpses.”</p><p> </p><p>“I still can’t believe you’re pre-war.” Haylen said, smiling amicably. “I’d call ‘B.S’ but we’ve heard of the shipments of nitrogen to that Vault. Didn’t think anyone would survive the pods, though. What was the Vault like?” </p><p> </p><p>Boswel bit at his lip, pearly white teeth digging into soft pink skin.</p><p> </p><p>Danse swiftly returned back to the report. After all, eavesdropping wasn’t telling of his rank. </p><p> </p><p>“Really cold, as you can imagine. Everyone was dead when I got out of the freezer, so it was quiet aside from the barely-function machinery. I guess the place had a revolt of some kind; they were waiting for an ‘okay’ from topside, and when it didn’t come, the security rebelled against the Overseer. I could see the team that kidnapped my boy slaying everyone, though, so revolt might not have been why it was empty.” Boswel said from down the hall. </p><p> </p><p>Haylen whistled, and clicked her tongue, that tick she had whenever she pondered. “Would it be a good place to salvage from, or it is all decrepit?”</p><p> </p><p>“It seemed fine to me. I’m not fond of the idea of going back in, but your team can go check around. You’ll likely be able to pull only basic parts; the more interesting machines are for the afterlife.” </p><p> </p><p>Danse shook his head, trying to ignore the conversation. The report he typed out detailed the assistance of the two travellers, but he wasn’t sure if he should include how beneficial they were. If the few COs he had saw that he screwed up to the point that untrained civilians had to come to the rescue, his record would be forever blemished. </p><p> </p><p>He palmed at his face. Damn it all, none of this should have happened. Gladius shouldn’t have had only three survivors. They shouldn’t have had to hide like cowards in that station, they shouldn’t have had to be saved by civilians, he shouldn’t have made so many errors-</p><p> </p><p>“Hi.”</p><p> </p><p>Danse jumped in his seat, recoiling away from the person who popped out around the corner from the hall. </p><p> </p><p>Boswel stepped back, hands up. “Oh, pardon. Sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>He palmed at his face again, harder. “It’s fine.” Danse cleared his throat, turning in the chair to properly face his startler. “What do you require?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ms. Haylen said to talk to you about your transmitter.” Boswel replied, nodding towards the hall. He propped himself up on the wall corner. “I’d be happy to assist, if you need me.”</p><p> </p><p>"<em> Scribe </em> Haylen." He corrected tersely. "But, yes, the further assistance would be appreciated. I’m ready to move out at any time, I just need to get my Power Armor.”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Alright. I’ll be waiting for you outside. Preston’s heading down to Pleasure Bay, so you’ll have only a second gun unfortunately.”</p><p> </p><p>Danse nodded and stood from the chair, side-stepping past Boswe-</p><p> </p><p>Wait.</p><p> </p><p>He stopped in his tracks.</p><p> </p><p>Boswel was taller than him.</p><p> </p><p>“Something I can do for you?” Boswel asked, head tilted, eyebrows quirked and smirk set deep into his face. Those snowstorm eyes taking him in.</p><p> </p><p>Danse flushed. “Nothing. Uh- Feel free to restock your ammunition.” He turned on his heel and beelined for his Power Armor. </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>He never did understand faith. </p><p> </p><p>Everyone needed something. He got that. Whatever hope you had the chance to grab a hold of, you did. The stuff was worth more than caps. People needed something, and some people found that source of strength in...something intangible. Arguably fake. It made no sense, but who was he to shut a man down for his anchor to sanity? </p><p> </p><p>Danse never needed to think about it, before. </p><p> </p><p>But, Boswel was an impossible man. </p><p> </p><p>The possible cultist sat languidly on the grime-stained mattress, cool and collected  as ever even as the radstorm shrieked just outside. They'd holed up in a bunker to wait out the storm. Just them - for once, the ever-growing team of misfits and lost souls weren't in company, much to his hypocritical delight and dismay. </p><p> </p><p>He didn't hate them. He didn't, despite what they might think. But, whether most of them were heathens or not, crowds were nightmarish. He'd be itching for isolation even with nine of his brothers and sisters in arms. </p><p> </p><p>So, yeah. Danse was actually happy with the one-on-one time with the Knight under his sponsorship. </p><p> </p><p>Even if he <em> was </em> bizarre. </p><p> </p><p>"I still don't understand your logic."</p><p> </p><p>Boswel smiled. Lips upturned wholly uneven, like his confusion made him the lunatic. "I simply just don't see the difference between the two. Why should there be one?"</p><p> </p><p>His brows furrowed almost painfully. "Apologies if I come off as callous, or ignorant- but religion and science are <em> not compatible </em> . The ideas go against each other on such a <em> fundamental level </em> that I'm almost considering making you get your head checked." Danse bit out, though not with malice. </p><p> </p><p>"And why is that?"</p><p> </p><p>"Why is-" Danse sputtered at the lunacy. "Religion is the belief in something <em> otherworldly </em> . Science is the study of the <em> natural world. </em> They cannot exist side-by-side." He said sternly. </p><p> </p><p>"If you aren't willing to introduce them, maybe." Boswel took a swig from the rum bottle. </p><p> </p><p>"That would be like introducing ice to fire." He deadpanned. "There is no correlation. How is this making sense for you? What kind of church did you <em> go to?" </em> There was a fine line between irritating disbelief and casual agnosticism, and that line was never something he wanted to cross. But come on. </p><p> </p><p>"Think about it." Boswel gestured with his bottle. "What is science?"</p><p> </p><p>"Again, the study of the natural world."</p><p> </p><p>"And what is religion?"</p><p> </p><p>"Belief in...the unknowable, I guess."</p><p> </p><p>"What's a common theme for religion?" Knight Boswel sat up, goading him on encouragingly, clearly playing at some game he had yet to figure out.</p><p> </p><p>Danse shrugged. "Gods?"</p><p> </p><p>"Close, you're getting there." Boswel nodded, enthused. He must have been following the conversation just as he was wanted to. "And what did these gods do?"</p><p> </p><p>"How should I know? They aren't my gods." Danse crossed his arms over his chest, glancing at the clock. They should have been using the time to sleep, get some rest. Not debating a topic that ripped governments apart. </p><p> </p><p>Boswel chuckled at his stiffness, this rough and warm sound. "They make."</p><p> </p><p>"So?" </p><p> </p><p>"So, these gods create the world. They build every little aspect of it. In whatever religion that has this myth of creation, we have our home <em> because </em> of a god." Boswel tilted and bobbed his head to his words, a habit that Danse had to fixate on every time he did it. He leaned forward, resting his arm on his propped-up knee. "If God - or <em> gods </em> , whichever - made the world, then he <em> also </em> made atoms and molecules and elements and everything we equate to science."</p><p> </p><p>Danse nodded, giving him the space to continue with the train of thought.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, if God made everything, why <em> would </em> it be so strange for a man of the cloth to keep science just as close to his heart as scripture?" Boswel sat up straighter, chipper of his conclusion in a youthful manner. </p><p> </p><p>He palmed at his face. "They are fundamentally opposite. Science is real. Religion is...more like <em> magic </em>. It has no basis in what we can prove to be reality." </p><p> </p><p>"Maybe. But, if from my perspective where it <em> is </em> reality, then that very reality has been made by gods." Boswel said. "Think of it as... <em> reverse engineering. </em> The gods created the world around us, and we studied it. Learned everything we could about every little atom." </p><p> </p><p>Danse blinked, face half-obscured by his hand. He glanced up at Boswel, leaning towards him. "You're suggesting that - by <em> default </em> - science is an aspect of all religion on the basis of creation myth."</p><p> </p><p>Boswel grinned, nodding.</p><p> </p><p>"And where did you come up with this?" He rubbed at the back of his neck. The BoS never took such things hand-in-hand; he doubted anyone did. "Was this a common Pre-war theological mindset?"</p><p> </p><p>"Far from it." Boswel chuckled, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back against the pillow, watching the storm outside the boarded-up windows. "I fell in love with such a concept early on, but my true belief and faith in it was started by the works of Cotton Mather."</p><p> </p><p>Danse settled into his bed; settled as much as an anxious man like him could, anyway. The hotel they'd broken into must have been ignored by the wasters. Probably because of the radstorms that picked up in the area keeping human life away. "Cotton Mather? Never heard of him."</p><p> </p><p>"You'd like his writing, I think. I doubt I still have my copies, but I'll keep an eye out." Boswel hummed, chest rising and falling slower and slower. "He was a writer of the 1700's, right here in Massachusetts. I got my hands on a copy of <em> The Biblia Americana, </em>his work about the joining of science and religion, when I was in High School. It felt like I was reading the answer to my questions about my faith and the contemporary world I was unfamiliar with." He sighed, a barely-there smile on his face.</p><p> </p><p>Danse always sunk his teeth into historic works when possible. The value of the perspective of an older generation is often brushed off, but it couldn't be described how deeply the mind of the long dead could touch you. "It sounds like you admire this guy." He commented.</p><p> </p><p>Boswel barked a laugh. "Oh, hardly! He was any other colonist, Protestant piece of shit. But The Biblia Americana sparked an interest in wanting to uncover more of my faith that led to more and more works on the subject, the divorce of science and religion." </p><p> </p><p>Danse chuckled, flipping the pillow and checking the safety of his rifle leaning against the bed frame. "So, what was it that sold you the idea of science and religion as a cohesive unit?"</p><p> </p><p>"Nothing." </p><p> </p><p>He waited a beat. Boswel said it so plainly, and he glanced over at him, waiting for him to continue. But he didn't. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> "Nothing?" </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Everything I read was this vehement insisting that there could not be a kind of faith in fact. I understand that religion cannot be intertwined with science, but the loophole I found was that <em> science </em> could be <em> religion </em>. I read book after book, attended lecture after lecture. My question was always 'why not?' And the answer was, without fail, 'because it just can't." Boswel said, fidgeting with the cross of his necklace, twirling it in his fingers. "I wasn't satisfied. But as I came to realize why we had the study of the natural in the first place, the more comparisons I found to religion. And while they may be opposite in definite reality, the core motivations were the same." </p><p> </p><p>"How so?" He prodded further. Boswel had a warm, soft voice, calming. His eyelids were heavy as the mattress gave way to his weight, but he didn't want to abandon this conversation. The crackling outside was masked by Boswel's clear voice. He wanted it to stay that way. "I can't say I'm following. Religion is more of a personal thing. Isn't it?"</p><p> </p><p>Boswel made a noise of agreement. "Yes, to most. Science, in my eyes, is something that we delved into for the unquestionable purpose of care. A desire to see our children lead better lives, go on to do great things. It's a legacy that the first founders of the practice - be they the hominids or the first curious souls of the Age of Enlightenment - dedicated themselves to so they might make things better. Religion is something we've given ourselves to out of a human need to not be alone. Have something to depend on, a way to relate to each other."</p><p> </p><p>"In this context, given what you said earlier reverse engineering…" Danse bit at his lip, putting together Knight Boswel's odd puzzle. "Your particular faith sees science as a way to understand and worship your god, while meeting his ideals?"</p><p> </p><p>Boswel cheered in his mother language. <em> "Exactly! </em> Do you still think it's so strange?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'll never understand religion, but yeah, I see what you're going for." Danse replied, a small smile creeping its way to his mouth. </p><p> </p><p>"That's more than most will humor me for." Boswel chuckled, the sound somewhat bittersweet. Danse closed his eyes, heart pleasantly slow. Despite how far out they were from a friendly settlement, Knight Boswel had an aura of safety around him. Maybe it was his cool demeanor, how he just flowed like water with whatever was thrown at him. It was focusing. Calming.</p><p> </p><p>"Thank you, friend."</p><p> </p><p>His eyes shot open as he sat up a little, swearing he heard wrong. Boswel was melting into his mattress, clearly comfortable and just moments from slipping into unconsciousness.</p><p> </p><p>"W- <em> pardon?" </em> He blurted, far louder than he meant for it to be.</p><p> </p><p>Boswel cracked one grey eye open, unbothered by the interruption of his sleep. "Most just brushed me off as insane. You're the first to really let me explain myself. So," He waved vaguely to repeat himself. "<em> Thank you, friend, </em> for giving me a chance."</p><p> </p><p>'Friend.'</p><p> </p><p>No one had ever-</p><p> </p><p>Not...not since <em> Cutler </em>.</p><p> </p><p>"Uh-" He fumbled over the air in his throat, heart rapid as a machine gun in his ribcage, cheeks sweltering and surely red. "Yeah. Sure."</p><p> </p><p>Danse flopped back down to the mattress, eyes wide and staring at the cracks in the ceiling as Boswel snored ever so quietly just a mere yard away from him. </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Only been a Knight for not even two months, and his C.Os were already waiting for the first chance of making him a Paladin. He would have been proud, if he wasn’t aware that Boswel was throwing the promotion away with every second. </p><p> </p><p>Danse tapped his foot against the steel beneath him, the faint chatter of Elder Maxson and Knight Boswel not so quiet that he couldn’t pick out the tension. The first time the latter met the former, he walked right up to Danse and asked if he was screwing with him. He tried to explain the Elder’s competence, but that wasn’t what had gotten Boswel’s hackles up. It was a conversation he’d been putting off - something told him that it would just be his own perspective that would be shaken. </p><p> </p><p>Boswel said something in a tone uncharacteristically forceful, like an avalanche. Elder Maxson growled in reply. </p><p> </p><p>Danse almost felt compelled to pray that Maxson would try to compromise. For Boswel’s sake. </p><p> </p><p>They found a lead for his boy.</p><p> </p><p>The synth detective managed to get a tip about where Kellog was hiding, after Boswel had been chasing the S.O.B around the Commonwealth the moment the Institute merc fled D.C. Had all of them run after him as he stormed the fort, finally ending the cat-and-mouse chase with his hands around Kellog’s throat. Ms. Wright was correct - the Institute had Boswel’s child. The worst possible outcome.</p><p> </p><p>And because Boswel was either an idiot or unrelenting, he decided he was going to find the Institute. </p><p> </p><p>He just <em> had </em> to enlist the help of the Railroad, damn him. And now, he argued for some kind of truce, whatever peace he could manage, between the synth harborers and his own brothers and sisters who wanted to gut them. All for the chance of getting back his child with as little death as possible.</p><p> </p><p>Boswel was an insane man who was either very lucky, or very good at what he did. When it came to this, Danse didn’t know which would be better.</p><p> </p><p>The woman of the Railroad interjected, Maxson snapped, Boswel countered. He couldn't hear the words, but the tone was fierce enough, tension thick enough that it cut through the walls.</p><p> </p><p>It went on for what felt like hours, before the arguing settled, and the door creaked open as Boswel stepped out into the hall. His face was dim, eyes tired. </p><p> </p><p>"Any luck?" Danse whispered, peeking down into the room. The woman and Maxson were leaning over a table, talking in deep thought over the maps and information they'd gathered. </p><p> </p><p>Boswel made a small noise as he headed through the halls. "Luck has never been of my positives. But, for now at least, the RR and your brotherhood aren't to maim each other." </p><p> </p><p>"Damn." He whistled, following. "I didn't think you'd actually be able to do it, to be honest. What are the terms?"</p><p> </p><p>"The Railroad gets to deal with the synths, the brotherhood gets to wreck shop with the Institute." Boswel mumbled, palming at his eye sockets. He hadn't slept in days. Just paced and worried. Danse made a mental note to snag him a bottle of rum. "Whatever synths the Railroad can find and retrieve, they get to handle. Like a...witness protection program, I guess. They'll all be under RR care and supervision, not to wander off."</p><p> </p><p>Danse narrowed his eyes. "What, and Maxson just agreed to that?"</p><p> </p><p>"I appealed to the side of him that <em> doesn't </em>want to murder more people than needed." Boswel deadpanned. "It wasn't about saving the synths, it was about preventing a needless war."</p><p> </p><p>He made a gruff noise. "You really think this is the best idea? To let machines, supervised or not, run freely among us?"</p><p> </p><p>Boswel winced. "Peace is <em> always </em>the best outcome. I can only pray that Maxson sees that, too." He sounded exhausted. Every word creaked with the weight his shoulders carried. </p><p> </p><p>That fire of indigence on behalf of the Brotherhood faltered at his tone. Most people didn't know the burden this one man was bearing for their sake. The Minutemen, keeping war from erupting, ending the Institute's terror.</p><p> </p><p>Even if his decisions were misguided by idealism, Knight Boswel was shaping up to be a hero in his book. </p><p> </p><p>But the uncertainty in Jesse's eyes said that he didn't feel the same about himself. </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Jesse was right. Luck wasn't part of his toolkit. </p><p> </p><p>Danse stepped quietly along the shore, box of snack cakes and bottle of a spicy rum in his hands. The beach was silent and empty, if not for the silhouette sitting just at the waves' end. </p><p> </p><p>God. <em> No one </em> deserved this, least of all Jess. </p><p> </p><p>They found the way into the Institute. The engineers and scientists of the Railroad, Minutemen, and Brotherhood banded together and built that teleporter, right in the airport's old lobby. It was an incredible feat, if only for the fact that no one bit another's head off. Ingram may as well have <em> eviscerated </em> Tinker Tom with her glares. </p><p> </p><p>They built the damn thing and sent Jesse through. It took awhile before he came back. A few hours, maybe. But he did. He went into the lion's den and came out alive. </p><p> </p><p>They stabilized and shut down the teleporter. He just...stood there. Stumbled down the steps with wide, pained eyes and shaky hands. The doctors tried to give him a once-over, thinking it was some physical side effect.</p><p> </p><p>Jess called over to Preston to throw him a ragged pillow from the lobby ruins. And he screamed. Buried his face in it and screamed. It was this heart-rending sound, chilling to the bone in its agony. Jesse screamed for what felt like years but had to have been only a minute and every second made Danse's stomach turn. </p><p> </p><p>When he dropped the pillow to the concrete, turned to face the terrified and concerned audience he'd accrued, the truth reared its ugly head. </p><p> </p><p>Watching Jess try to explain that his son was not only the Institute's 60-year-old leader and wanted to pass the title onto him, but was going to die of cancer within a month's time, was nauseating. He barely managed to stay, fighting off every urge to barrel out of the war room and throw up in sympathy.</p><p> </p><p>Seemed like Jesse had the same idea. He sat there, curled in on himself on a chair, not speaking. Seconds from exploding.</p><p> </p><p>The moment they were all excused and Desdemona and Maxson were discussing what came next, Jesse was out the door. Danse didn't follow - went straight to Teagan for something that Jesse could drink his sorrows away with. </p><p> </p><p>And now, there he was. Sitting at the shoreline, staring out to sea. </p><p> </p><p>"Hey." Danse tried, keeping his tone appropriately quiet. He took a seat next to the storm-filled man, pushing the bottle and box into his chest. "Thought you might need a pick-me-up."</p><p> </p><p>Jesse grunted, ripping the cap off and necking the thing, downing half the bottle in one go. He sighed, muttering something in Dutch that Danse had learned was a curse. </p><p> </p><p>Danse cleared his throat, fumbling around the little he knew of comforting. "Do...you wanna...talk about it…?" He slowly asked, testing the water in a way that was not at all subtle. </p><p> </p><p>"I'd like to pretend that this damn day didn't even <em> happen </em>." Jesse croaked, voice rough with the thinly hidden tears that dared to spill. </p><p> </p><p>He nodded, tentative. The silence that surrounded them was the kind that wasn't erased by sound. A thick, engulfing air. How the pulling grasp of sorrow from one yanked at the heart of another; the silence of distance and ache. </p><p> </p><p>He was familiar with that fog. In many ways. </p><p> </p><p>Jesse clenched his eyes shut, palm covering most of his face. He looked small. He looked small and scared and in a pain Danse couldn't pretend he understood. This was a grinding of the heart, a lit match thrown into a puddle of gasoline. He had to do something. It crunched him to bone but damn it, he had <em> to do </em> something <em> , say </em> something, <em> anything </em>. </p><p> </p><p>"I...know this is a redundant inquiry, but...are you okay?" He asked, trying to keep the inexperience out of his words. </p><p> </p><p>Jesse paused, exhaling sharply from his nose. He sat tense, like a grenade with its pin pulled. After a moment of excruciating quiet, "...Yeah. Yeah, it's...fine. 'm fine." Jesse murmured, running his hands through his hair. His eyes were wet at the corners. "I...didn't know him, anyway. Just because he's my <em> goddamned baby </em> doesn't mean I was close enough with him for this to-" </p><p> </p><p>The words broke off into a choke, those tears in his eyes making their relentlessness known. Jesse covered his face with his hands, shoulders trembling. </p><p> </p><p>Jesse Boswel. A light in the dark. A clear rain after centuries of endless fire and drought. A man who'd give everything he had and then some for others. He'd always been the first to smile, the one to jump at an upside, the man who defended the idea of peace and compassion. </p><p> </p><p>And he cried into his hands on that sandy beach while the waves lapped at their boots. </p><p> </p><p>Danse did the only thing he could.</p><p> </p><p>He reached over, pulled Jess into his arms, wrapped him in a tight embrace. It earned a moment of confusion, then one of realization. Whatever walls Jesse was trying to build for his own sake crumbled. </p><p> </p><p>Jess hid his face in his shoulder, trembles coursing through him like livewire. Danse rubbed at his back, trying to sooth. Pain like this could not be made better; it could only be felt. This was a storm that could not weathered. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry for all of this." Danse whispered, watching the roil of the sea. "You know that I'm proud of you, right?"</p><p> </p><p>Jesse rested his chin on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his back and clinging. "For <em> what?" </em> He choked out, voice rough and wet. </p><p> </p><p>"For going through all of this." Danse said, words devoid of his usual military gruffness. "So much of what you've gone through would have broken most. But you're still here, and you're still a good man." He whispered, leaning his head against Jesse's. "I'm honestly surprised it took this long for you to break. I would have lost my mind a long time ago."</p><p> </p><p>Jesse sniffed, taking in a shuddering gulp of breath. "You don't give yourself enough credit."</p><p> </p><p>He chuckled, a small, bitter smile growing on his face. "Maybe. But you need to understand that this isn't something negatively telling on your part. You did everything you could. The world just...has a way of ruining everything." Danse leaned back, meeting Jess's reddened, wet eyes. "But it doesn't matter. Because everything the wasteland throws you, I'll be there to help you catch. Every step of the way, we've <em> all </em> got your back. I promise." </p><p> </p><p>Jesse blinked for a moment, before his cheeks went redder and the tiniest of grins broke from his lips. "What, are you trying to make me cry <em> even more?" </em>He wiped the tears from his eyes with his palms, sniffing. </p><p> </p><p>"I <em> mean it." </em> Danse said firmly. </p><p> </p><p>"I know you do." Jess smiled, even as more tears slipped down his cheeks. "And I wouldn't want anyone else at my side."</p><p> </p><p>He pulled him back in, for a hug made from loyalty instead of that aching comfort. As Jess relaxed, his head on his shoulder, some little voice suggested that maybe - just maybe - they would be okay. </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>He couldn't appreciate the beauty. </p><p> </p><p>Spectacle Island was far off the coast, only a fog-hidden no-man's-land to the soldiers of the Castle. Only an unmapped territory to the brothe- </p><p> </p><p>He winced, the thought of his losses stinging his heart. </p><p> </p><p>The universe decided to kill two birds with one stone. Father- Shaun, passed away. Jess was called to the Institute with the warning that his son had not long left. And because neither of them could catch a break if it threw itself at their chest, Danse’s synth nature was revealed, and he had to flee his home. Run from his family.</p><p> </p><p>The others had gotten wind somehow, hurried to come find him with Haylen’s help. When Valentine was trying to talk him down from doing his duty as a Paladin and exterminating himself, Jesse arrived. He honestly didn’t remember much of how things went from there. He remembered himself almost crying, Jess bawling his eyes out and begging him to just come home to Sanctuary. It was all a painful blur.</p><p> </p><p>He remembered Maxson, though. Remembered Jess threatening to blow up the Prydwen just to keep him safe.</p><p> </p><p>He was trying to not think about it. </p><p> </p><p>The sun was rising gently over the horizon, bathing the still waters in apricots and roses as they rowed into the small dock Jesse had set up for what was meant to be himself. They hauled their bags over their shoulders, Jess far too silent. </p><p> </p><p>Danse didn't like the look he had when they entered the house.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn't Jess's usual flip. This man had an eye for design and the craftsmanship to make it come to life. This house was barren. The walls patched haphazardly, floors rotted, rooms empty. A generator was set up, but the only power was to the coffee pot. The house had no lights but the idly spinning ceiling fan in the entry hall.</p><p> </p><p>It was wrong. It went against everything he knew Jess to be. But then again, who was he to assume when he apparently didn't even know <em> himself? </em></p><p> </p><p>The island was beautiful. Radiation hadn't damaged it too much - the trees weren't lush, but leaves clung to the branches. Grass grew thicker, not as sickly. The wind smelled of seasalt and cold weather. </p><p> </p><p>But <em> that damn house.  </em></p><p> </p><p>He asked. Asked why he hadn't fixed it up at all, why he hadn't taken advantage of this perfect spot for a settlement. Jesse fidgeted, turned away from his eyes. Said this was where he escaped. Got away from the world. </p><p> </p><p>Jesse's house in Sanctuary was the epitome of comfort. Brightly painted, the counters and shelves cluttered with trinkets. It was alive and warm, big enough to host all of them but small enough to still be cozy and private. It was home to whoever entered, for whatever soul found themself at his doorstep. </p><p> </p><p>Spectacle Manor, as Jess called it, was ghostly. No warmth or color, none of the vitality and presence that Jess radiated. Danse walked into the bathroom; the mirror was broken. Jess had no bed for himself - only a sleeping bag thrown in the corner. The floors creaked and dipped under his footsteps but were silent under Jesse’s careful tiptoeing around. </p><p> </p><p>As he stepped inside, watching Jesse's face turn devoid and timid, he couldn't help but feel like he was in good company. He was at his weakest. His lowest he ever could have been.</p><p> </p><p>And Jess brought him to a place where he clearly didn't go to be <em> happy. </em> </p><p> </p><p>The dull, sickly light from the lantern lit the room in weak glow as Danse focused on the flickering core. Jesse sat in the corner, allowing the silence. It was the second day, and they had barely spoken to each other. He didn’t know how to feel about that. Whenever someone was hurting, or needed some kind of guidance, Jess jumped to their side. He did it for every single misfit in his still-expanding troupe. </p><p> </p><p>But he was leaving Danse to his beer. Not even chatting nonsense to fill the air. Was this another thing that would change? Were they not okay anymore? Did Jess think differently of him now? </p><p> </p><p>Did Jess <em> regret </em>letting him live?</p><p> </p><p>His head throbbed with the thought, headache blooming across his temples and behind his eyes. It had almost faded away, too. </p><p> </p><p>Try as he might, he couldn’t will himself into pretending Jess wasn’t there, that he was alone. The miniscule rise and fall of the general’s chest and the hum Danse knew he was stifling demanded that his presence be known. They sat on the floor in opposite corners, like some wall had sprouted between them out of nowhere. On the way to the shore, just before they got on the boat, Jess was all chatter, pointing out the constellations, talking about the Minutemen, everything and nothing.</p><p> </p><p>But the moment they set off to cross the ocean, he went quiet. All that talk faded, and he stopped meeting Danse’s eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Jesse's shoulders were squared, body tense and making him look small, like it did on the beach of the airport.</p><p> </p><p>"How'd you find this place?" He blurted out, far too loud and intrusive than he would have allowed even if he <em> had </em>meant to break the silence. </p><p> </p><p>Jess perked up, gaze being pulled away from the lines and swirls of burn scars wrapped around his limbs. He tilted his head, more awake now that the line had been crossed. "I saw it from the shore. Didn’t look too crowded, and I haven’t heard of anyone living out here, so I thought I’d come check it out.” </p><p> </p><p>Relief flooded him as the bubble of quiet was popped. “And it was unoccupied?” Danse internally prayed that this went somewhere, that the silence wouldn’t return and engulf. “I’m surprised raiders didn’t take it for a secure hideout.”</p><p> </p><p><em> “Right? </em>Couldn’t believe it myself. All you need is a boat and a willingness to sit on your thumb for an hour or so on the ride over.” Jesse’s vitality came back, if only a little. He brightened. “There was, at some point, some settlers who tried to make a go of it, but the crabs drove them out God knows how long ago.”</p><p> </p><p>He blinked. At no point were Mirelurks mentioned, and frankly, regardless of his mental state, he didn’t want his death to be at the pincers of overgrown calamari. “Did you <em> clear out </em> the mirelurks?”</p><p> </p><p>Jesse rubbed at the back of his neck, sheepish. “Well, <em> no </em>. But don’t worry! There’s a siren system hooked up that plays a frequency that they hate. I flip the switch every so often to keep them from getting curious.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to assume there <em> won’t </em> be a Queen crashing through the wall in the night, and I hope <em> you </em>can keep that assumption from being off-base.” Danse said dryly, whatever ease he might have found whooshing away with the wind.</p><p> </p><p>Jesse smirked, that odd little smile that would never be symmetrical and even. “I’d like to think the crustacean invasion would be a little more calculated and a lot less destructive of property.” He quipped, sitting straightly. “Something frighteningly organized. Perhaps a grand siege where they dress up as my wife and child, a la Troy.” He mused, gesturing at the vast narrative he’d crafted for himself, likely having gone insane in the hour they’d been sitting there. </p><p> </p><p>Of course, Danse had little idea of what he was talking about. </p><p> </p><p>Jess was, without a <em> doubt </em> , pretentious. He made references and comments about things Danse doubted even the regularly educated people of the Pre-war era knew about. Most conversations he had with the common scavenger involved him waving off a joke only he got, much to the other party’s confusion. In most cases, irritation. The only reason he got away with being pretentious was that he wasn’t an utter <em> ass </em> about it. At no point did he ever make someone feel stupid for not knowing the obscure historical event he made a joke about; if anything, he was more likely to be excited for the chance to talk about it. Which <em> also </em> led to irritation.</p><p> </p><p>“You really need to come with glossary, you know that?” Danse quipped. “If I had a cap for every reference of yours, I could probably buy my way out of the wasteland.”</p><p> </p><p>Jesse crossed his legs, hands tucked around a calf. “If I had any affability in college, I would have been hilarious.” He said, sticking his chin out. “Though, I do wonder- is Troy <em> really </em> not a thing anymore? I’d be under the impression that raiders would be trying to pull some similar stunt every other Friday.”</p><p> </p><p>Danse propped his elbow on his knee, idly swirling the last few swallows of beer in the copper-colored glass. “Can’t say I’m <em> conversant </em> on the subject, but I’ve heard of it. Something about horses and a runaway bride?” </p><p> </p><p>“Pretty much, yes.” Jesse replied, nodding. “A woman didn’t care for her husband, so she fled with her lover to his city of Troy. The city was sacked after her husband sent soldiers to hide in a giant wooden horse, which they rolled up to the gates. When Troy pulled the horse inside, the soldiers made their play and laid siege from the inside out. There’s more to it, but that’s the gist of the infamous ‘Trojan Horse’. Full story is fascinating.” </p><p> </p><p>Danse raised an eyebrow. “Do you just keep a library of classics in your head at all times?”</p><p> </p><p>“Every waking hour.” </p><p> </p><p>“So, what’s the full story?”</p><p> </p><p>“A few <em> thousand </em> pages. It’s from a saga called The Iliad, a large collection of poems telling the story of many characters, like Achilles and Patroclus, Aeneas, and Odysses, though some of them had their stories told in other works aside from Homer’s.” Jesse explained, a small glimmer in his eye that he always got when he talked about his mother culture. His gaze turned to the floor, brows furrowed and smile bittersweet. “My father told it to me, the few I got to meet him.” He said, voice barely above a whisper. “The books never held up. He had a knack for storytelling.” </p><p> </p><p>Jesse’s father?</p><p> </p><p>Danse blinked as he noticed that this was the first time Jess had ever mentioned…<em> either </em> of his parents. He’d only ever talked about his uncle and aunt. From the story that he’d been taken by the government and dropped into his relative’s arms, Danse had gleaned that his parental relationship was <em> complicated </em>. </p><p> </p><p>“You’ve never mentioned your father before.” He pointed out just as quietly after a beat of silence. </p><p> </p><p>Jess hummed in agreement. “Didn’t get to know him.”</p><p> </p><p>Something pinged in his mind as he realized that Jesse’s position in the social equation had <em> shifted </em>.</p><p> </p><p><em> Jess </em> was the one prodded, the one encouraging the other to open up and talk and let him help, offer words of comfort. But for all his friends, no one knew where he came from, really. So many parts of his life he kept secret, brushed away.</p><p><br/>
Danse found himself overwhelmed by curiosity. </p><p> </p><p>He swallowed thickly, and took a stabilizing breath before asking, “I know it isn’t my place to ask, but...would you have <em> wanted </em> to know him?”</p><p> </p><p>Jess shut his eyes, smile faded and gone. “Meeting him was…” He threw his head back, banging it on the wall. “I don’t know if I should have never met him, or ran away with him.” He breathed, that careful grip of his unshakable persona quivering. "Most of my troubles now are from not picking a side back then."</p><p> </p><p>Jess looked soft. Not the soft of his telltale smile, his nom de plume compassion. Glass ground to sand, cotton flower ripped from the earth. A heart string snapped in his chest. </p><p> </p><p>He dared to step deeper into that labyrinth of careful boundaries and unknown lore. "Divorced?"</p><p> </p><p>"Never married." Gesturing to his body, "You're looking at the bastard son of a Wildman and a seamstress." He chuckled, hollow and without humor. </p><p> </p><p>The first mention of his mother. "I assume you would have talked about it if you wanted to." Danse said, an attempt of mapping out the lines he couldn't cross. Knowing where to stop and where to keep prodding. </p><p> </p><p>"It isn't that I <em> want </em> to be a ghost to you." Jesse replied, in pained earnest, folded in on himself. "But revisiting my family has never brought me anything but confusion, and questions I don't want answered. And even <em> if </em> I could have found closure, that would have been almost three hundred ago." </p><p> </p><p>Danse's face softened, heartstrings pulled taut at the ache on his face. "If you ever did want to explain, I'll <em> always </em> have time for you."</p><p> </p><p>A dusting of rosiness filled Jesse's cheeks, almost hidden beneath burns. His eyes darted around, corners of his lips twitched upward. He scoffed softly, turning away. "I wish I could, but it's nothing but bewilderment." Jesse's eyes flickered back to that lonely aching that hung on to him like a fish net. "There's so much I wish I could tell you, but most is not for uttering." </p><p> </p><p>"That remains to be seen." He countered. "I've seen almost everything, and heard of twice that. You don't need to feel ashamed for an<em> unhappy childhood </em>, Jess." He flinched at the two words, curling in on himself further.  "If you don’t want to discuss it, you don’t need to. But you also don’t need to feel like everyone is expecting you to not be a human being with pain and troubles like the rest of u-”</p><p> </p><p>The words caught in his throat like a bitter pill. </p><p> </p><p>Danse sighed. “...like <em> other humans </em>.” He corrected himself. Revulsion swarmed as locusts in his stomach, embarrassment of forgetting himself yet again. It was such an easy mistake to make. Such a cruel joke to play on himself.</p><p> </p><p>Jesse sat up straight, eyebrows set deep. “It’s a figure of speech and you know it is.” He said, firm in that fatherly tone he’d mastered since adopting that synth child, named after his own flesh and blood. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again until it internalizes; you do not need to be human to experience humanity. If anything, humanity is just a narcissistic word for ‘life’.”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t want to argue. Not now, not even if it wasn’t an argument born of anger and disagreement, but care. So, Danse mumbled an ‘alright’ and nodded, turning back to his beer.</p><p> </p><p>But then that goddamned silence took over again. </p><p> </p><p>He was an idiot, letting that wall build itself up again so quickly. </p><p> </p><p>From the corner, Jess's closed-off timidness morphed into that utmost tender concern, the way his eyes went soft and face fell. Danse thought for almost a moment that he'd reach out, be the one to cross that gap, climb the wall. </p><p> </p><p>But he retreated. Slunk back into a tense curl, gaze falling to the dust-blanketed floor again. </p><p> </p><p>He stopped counting the time. Stopped thinking. The sun fully slipped beneath the horizon, eventually. That tiny room saw light only from that flickering lantern, pathetically minute in its desperate attempt to stay burning. </p><p> </p><p>He stole a glance.</p><p> </p><p>Jess was always pestered in towns. Women slinking up to his side, twisting their hair and batting their eyelashes. Men standing straighter, thumbs looped in their belts, eyeing him up and down. </p><p> </p><p>Danse never got it, before. He never found anyone attractive - it didn't matter, so he didn't consider it. </p><p> </p><p>But now, as he had that moment to just...<em> look? </em></p><p> </p><p>He considered that, <em> yeah, </em>Jess was attractive. Those people didn't seem so bizarre, now. Strong nose, full lips, sharp cheekbones...the fact that he didn't look like the average shambling corpse, like other wasters, didn't hurt either. </p><p> </p><p>His eyes drew Danse's.</p><p> </p><p>Grey. Even in warm, if not dull, firelight, a bright and impossibly cool grey. Framed by thick lashes and brows. No wonder he turned people into putty; those eyes had to freeze you in your tracks if Jess was staring you down. </p><p> </p><p>His heart squirmed in his ribcage. Chest grew warm. </p><p> </p><p>He tore that second-long glance away, focused on that fire trying so hard to keep burning. This small flame, fighting the world to stay alive. Fading. Growing smaller and smaller. Dying. </p><p> </p><p>"You remind me of Achilles, you know." Jesse's soft-as-snow voice whispered from his corner, not climbing the wall, but...hovering near it. Not invading, but seeing if he'd come to the other side. See if he was willing to meet him halfway. </p><p> </p><p>Danse's brow quirked. "How so?" He, the fool he was, looked back at Jess again.</p><p> </p><p>Those eyes were on him. His heart jumped. </p><p> </p><p>Jesse spoke so quietly, he could barely hear him. "He was a warrior, invincible except for his heel- I'm sure you've heard the saying. He took on hundreds of enemies, faced death over and over again. He was feared by those he fought, adored by his allies." Jess went on, his gaze turning from Danse to the lingering flame of the lantern. "And yet for all his power, he was slain by his hubris. His lover, Patroclus, was killed, and Achilles himself was hit in the heel and perished, after slaughtering hundreds of the opposing army." </p><p> </p><p>Danse found it difficult to look away from Jess. But he did. Tore it away to look out the window, at the starless night. "I don't believe I follow. I'm not invincible, I'm hardly adored, and I've never had a lover." He said, tone mirthful. He was flattered, if only a little, that Jess thought him a competent soldier, but that was the only trait he wouldn't disagree with. He took another beer, biting the cap off and taking a deep swig. </p><p> </p><p>"...Cutler?"</p><p> </p><p>Danse about spat out the lager. </p><p> </p><p>"Wha- You think Cutler and I were in a relationship!?" Danse exclaimed, sputtering with eyes wide.</p><p> </p><p>"<em> No, </em> no, no!" Jesse waved in defense. "I meant that- I was-" His words fell off into a frustrated, embarrassed groan as he palmed at his face. "I...I meant Cutler was...your Patroclus. <em> Not as a lover!" </em> He was quick to add, holding up his hands defensively.</p><p> </p><p>"But, in the sense that things just…" He rolled and bobbed his head, in lieu of waving his hands vaguely. "Went downhill for you, I guess."</p><p> </p><p>Oh. Danse exhaled sharply, taking another swig to fight down the coughing fit of swallowing the first one poorly. "That's putting it gently, but sure." </p><p> </p><p>Jess fidgeted, shrinking in his corner, and damn it Danse could see he was slinking back away from the wall. "I'm- I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"</p><p> </p><p>"Don't." He blurted. Jess blinked as the interruption that not even he expected. Danse cleared his throat. "Don't be. I like hearing from you." </p><p> </p><p>Jess flushed, rubbing the nape of his neck. "...Alright."</p><p> </p><p>That silence dared to close in again, that wall sprouting from the floor and damn it he <em> wasn't gonna let it happen.  </em></p><p> </p><p>"Though, I do have to ask: why was Achilles' <em> heel </em> his weakness?" Danse asked, the question coming in the spur of the moment as a desperate fight to keep them together, not separated by the quiet agony. "And what happened with Patroclus?"</p><p> </p><p>Jess perked up, a smile flicking on his face. "Short answer, or long reenactment?"</p><p> </p><p>Danse returned the little grin. "Which one do you have the energy for?"</p><p> </p><p>And just like that, all that life and vitality came back to Jess.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>He couldn't stop thinking about it.</p><p> </p><p>Those few days had just...<em> done </em> something. Struck some cord in him. Jess had told every little story he knew, stories of Thebes and Hermes and Troy. Talked about his religion and spiritual beliefs, like the sun and moon being Earth's gardeners and the luck of befriending crows. Jesse's voice, waning and waxing poetry like the sun's pirouette had somehow brought him both agony and the deepest sense of peace he'd ever known. </p><p> </p><p>And God, that man knew how to talk, what to say. At any moment. It was damn paranormal. </p><p> </p><p>Danse paced around the garage, the quiet ticking of the clock driving him crazier and crazier. </p><p> </p><p>He glanced at the gift basket on the workbench. </p><p> </p><p>It was filled with the little guilty pleasures he thought he'd hidden well, boxes of snack cakes and that weird lemon candy that was to him what Mentats were to Hancock. But that wasn't what mattered; what drove him to tears, real, full-on <em> sobbing </em>, was the letters. One from each of those beautiful, kind-hearted heathens, full of enough sincerity and warmth to make your teeth rot. But damn it, he needed it. He had no idea how he would ever repay them, make his wrongs right. </p><p> </p><p>Damn it all. Danse ran his hand through his hair, sighing. </p><p> </p><p>Things <em> weren't </em> good. But they <em> would </em> be. Everything was going to be okay, and he knew that. He <em> was </em> going to get better, because he actually <em> wanted </em> to. He <em> wanted </em> to finally just <em> live his life </em>, and he wanted to live it with this crazy, messed up family Jess had brought together with just his compassion. </p><p> </p><p>But he couldn't help but feel like he was missing something. </p><p> </p><p>He wasn't happy, not yet; but he was hopeful. He was content. This was okay. This life he was going into had already brought him more peace than the life he had to leave behind. It was just that he had this itch that he was <em> forgetting </em> something.</p><p> </p><p>He couldn't stop thinking about Spectacle Island. He couldn't stop thinking about that conversation with Jess, on the last day before they headed back to shore.</p><p> </p><p>Danse had said that Jess was like a brother to him. After all his support, all his gentle encouragement and faith in him, Jess was family. Jess was this unending source of strength, someone he cared for more than he'd ever had before and he knew that feeling of loyalty was returned. Knowing that was screwing with him. That was it. </p><p> </p><p>He regretted saying that Jess was a brother. </p><p> </p><p>God knows why, it made perfect sense and Jess was that warm, caring shoulder that helped him loosen up. That's brotherly. There was no reason that he should feel like 'brother' was the wrong word for it. Jess seemed surprised by it. His eyes flashed, a flicker of emotion that made Danse's stomach drop for a moment. He returned the sentiment, but...<em> hesitantly </em>, perhaps? He agreed, said they were the best of friends. Was it wrong because they were just closer than that? Was it that the words didn't do it justice?</p><p> </p><p>Danse nodded to himself. Yeah, that was a logical answer. </p><p> </p><p>He still cursed himself for not being able to leave that manor. It was a month ago. Yes, it wasn't beyond reason that he was still coming to terms with everything, but it didn't bother him. It was more like an incessant poke, a "Hey asshole, you sure that you said everything you needed to say?" </p><p> </p><p>There was so much he wanted Jess to know. Jess was a good man who saw the best in everyone but himself and it drove him up the wall. Danse rubbed at the nape of his neck, walking in circles, power armor waiting for him to return to its tuning. The damn thing could wait. </p><p> </p><p>He should have told Jess how it was him and him alone that kept him going. If it wasn't for Jess, he'd have shot himself. He'd have died on that concrete floor. But the moment Jess stumbled out of that elevator, terrified and in agony at the thought of losing him…</p><p> </p><p>It escaped him in the moment, but Jess needed <em> him, </em> too. The others were there for him, but none of them were as close. Him and Jesse were on some shared thread of fate, fitting together so perfectly. A part of him wondered how he ever survived without him. How he went on without that kind of friendship. Cutler was a close friend, but not like Jesse was. <em> Cutler </em>was a brother. </p><p> </p><p>Jesse was something else. A confidant. A shoulder. Right. </p><p> </p><p>Everything about Jess felt <em> right. </em></p><p> </p><p>In a world where everything was wrong, with endless bloodshed and cruelty and good people died just because they caught the reaper's eye, <em> Jesse was right. </em> He was kind and genuinely, <em> genuinely </em> , wanted the best for everyone. Even his <em> name </em> felt right. Soft name for a soft man. Danse wasn't the only one who called him 'Jess' but it didn't have that rightness from anyone else. Like some higher power had meant for them to meet, like he was <em> meant </em>to say that name.</p><p> </p><p>He stopped in his tracks.</p><p> </p><p>That sentiment was too much, wasn't it? Yeah, they were close, but that was taking it too far. It wasn't like they were soulmates, they just got along well. They had good chemistry. Great chemistry, even. </p><p> </p><p>And damn it all, he still couldn't stop thinking about Spectacle Island. That boat ride over across the bay that morning was gorgeous. The sun was barely hanging in the sky, early morning waters all lit up with pink and orange. His previous confirmation that Jesse was conventionally attractive was reaffirmed; he looked good, sunrise reflecting off the water onto his face, hair mussed from sleep and eyes still drowsy. </p><p> </p><p>Honestly, how the hell was Jess not being hounded by suitors? He was handsome, kind, a positive influence and inspiration, a good dad to a good kid - he had people flirt with him, but no one had really committed to it. Whoever had the guts to pursue something with the man would be the luckiest person in the Commonwealth.</p><p> </p><p>Danse had heard Piper and Hancock scheming to set him up. Hancock had an endless supply of "So, I have this friend, right?" blind dates at the ready at any given time and Piper was a born matchmaker. And yet Jesse never seemed to take. In fact, he hadn't even agreed to one. He had no idea why, but he found himself relieved nonetheless. For some reason. Maybe he just didn't want things to change more than they already had. </p><p> </p><p>Danse kept circling the room, trying to figure out why the thought Jesse's glacial eyes kept stealing his mind away from himself. </p><p> </p><p>He still couldn't believe that he didn't understand why people were attracted to Jess. The best of days, he didn't understand the careful social dance of flirting, but his obliviousness in this circumstance was downright unreasonable. Jess was what Cutler would have called 'a catch'. Attractive, reliable source of income and resources, important figure in the Commonwealth, a great man with a big heart, great soldier, great dad - hell, if Danse was someone else he might have just gone for it him…</p><p> </p><p>…self…</p><p> </p><p>He paused in his pacing, blinking in confusion.</p><p> </p><p>That wasn't an appropriate way to think about your friend. Right? Like, at all. Well, he reasoned, it wasn't weird to consider why someone was likable. Especially if they were your friend. He was just rationalizing all of Jesse's positives. </p><p> </p><p>Though, why would he have to be someone else to be into Jesse? </p><p> </p><p>Danse shook his head at the hypothetical quandary. The answer was simple; because he just wasn't into Jess. So, if he was someone else, he probably would be. Jesse was inherently desirable, anyone with a brain could see that. It wasn't odd for him to acknowledge and agree with that. </p><p> </p><p>His thoughts drifted to that morning, the day they left Spectacle Island, as he returned to the March around the garage.</p><p> </p><p>He woke up, rolled over. Saw Jess facing him, still lost to sleep. The just-then-rising sun had reflected and bounced off the peeling wallpaper, little spots of light dotted on his face like his dusting of freckles. Half his face was buried in his pillow, chest rising and falling in tandem with the waves outside. He snored ever so faintly, the small sound somewhat betraying the odd way he managed to look composed even in his rest. </p><p> </p><p>Danse had looked. Watched him breathe and wondered how soft his heartbeat was. </p><p> </p><p>And then Jesse started muttering. Quietly, under his breath, in Greek and English.</p><p> </p><p>He recognized words from the stories Jess had told the previous nights. He barely managed to keep his chuckling in, knowing that Jess thought about classic literature even in his sleep. Jess echoed things like Achilles and Patroclus' relationship, the odd tale of Autolycus the shapeshifter, Thebes' war on Sparta. </p><p> </p><p>He laid there, listening to Jesse sleeptalk as the sun rose higher, and the light waked him by shining in his face. And yet again, the way he grumbled and squinted at the blinding, sat up and yawned while stretching and then just sat there a moment, trying to ingratiate himself with the world again...it was charming. Jess looked like everything beautiful about humanity, in that moment. </p><p> </p><p>Danse recoiled. No, he was being down-right inappropriate now. Maybe he just had newfound appreciation for those moments, after everything. It wasn’t normal to think about your friend like that otherwise. It just <em> wasn’t </em> , it was utterly <em> creepy </em> . Well, unless, of course, you didn’t want to <em> just </em> be <em> frie </em>-</p><p> </p><p>He stopped dead in his tracks. One moment passed, all of those thoughts swarming as he sucked in a breath through his teeth as his situation dawned on him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>It took all but a day for him to decide that crushes sucked eggs. </p><p> </p><p>Everywhere he looked he thought of Jesse and then his knees went frail, heart kept fluttering. The crop fields, the blue trimming on buildings, every minuteman flag flying in the air. It all lead back to Jesse and he hadn’t eaten in far too long, sick to the stomach with his own infatuation. </p><p> </p><p>This was <em> bad. </em> Irrefutably <em> bad, </em> yet another problem he needed to either ignore and hope it would fade, or address. </p><p> </p><p>And because life just really, <em> really </em> wanted to give him the ol’ heave-ho out of his comfort zone, Valentine prodded at the idea of him getting into the romance game. And because he’s a class-A <em> moron </em> , he let slip that he already had his eyes on someone. Thank <em> God </em> he didn’t say who, but Nick kept encouraging him to go ‘shoot his shot’ and <em> wow </em>, he was making a lot of bad decisions lately, based on nothing but his fumbling heart. </p><p> </p><p>Every bone in his body was begging him to not do it, but Danse raised one fist defiantly, and brought it down on the door three times.</p><p> </p><p>He, under <em> no </em> circumstances, was going to voice his attractions. Jesse was an expert at social relations; if anyone knew how he could get over his feelings, it'd be the man they were for.</p><p> </p><p>There was a pause as footsteps harried down the hall and to the door, before Jesse cracked it open and peaked through the crack. "Ah, good morning, friend!" He opened it fully, stepping aside and gesturing for him to come in. His traveling underclothes were on, only the legs of his leather armor strapped to his thighs. </p><p> </p><p>Danse leaned in, greeting him with a brief side-hug. Jesse smiled a little, even as he pulled away. "Hey." He offered weakly, trying in pathetic desperation to figure how, exactly, to approach it. "Uh, I don't want to overstep, but are you busy?"</p><p> </p><p>Jesse shut the door behind him as he stepped in, entered that everyman's home. He shook his head, then nodded, eyes so impossibly sweet. "Not if you need me." He promised, voice soft as a brook. "So, what's needed?"</p><p> </p><p>Danse swallowed, and leaned against the kitchen island. He bit at his cheek, glancing up at the ceiling fan as he considered his words. "I have a...<em> delicate social problem </em>. That I'm not sure how to resolve." He said slowly, not meeting Jesse's grey eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Those eyes flashed. <em> "Resolve?" </em> He echoed, soft features hardening like ice. "Surely someone isn't giving you trouble, yes?" He inquired, the threat towards the hypothetical offender glistening on his tone.</p><p> </p><p>Danse shook his head, waving off the protective instinct. "No, it's nothing like that all. This conundrum doesn't involve conflict, rather…" He paused, choosing his next words with high caution as he rubbed at the back of his neck. "It's someone I find myself having gotten...<em> close with. </em> And I'm not sure how to proceed."</p><p> </p><p>Jesse paled. Face fell like an avalanche. "Oh. Well then." He said weakly. "I'm, uh….I can certainly help you, but that is…" He turned away from him, palming at his face. "It's never been my forte. Better with friends." Jesse explained, looking at the floor. He cleared his throat. "I can try to counsel, but I'd take my advice with a whole barrel of salt."</p><p> </p><p>Danse nodded slowly, wondering if that was why no one had succeeded in securing a relationship with him. "It can wait, since you appear to be gearing up to head out." He pointed at Jesse's armor and under armor. "Minutemen work? Usually you give a warning. Is there an emergency?"</p><p> </p><p>Jesse recoiled at the question, shaking his head. "Oh, no, everything's fine. For now, at least." </p><p> </p><p>"Good. So, where are you headed?"</p><p> </p><p>He paused. Looked away again. "I'm...going to Spectacle for a bit." He confessed, wringing his hands. "Need to finally add some turrets. Keep the crabs away, y'know?" He offered, weak and sheepish. </p><p> </p><p> Danse's chest tightened. He swallowed. "I see." Neither of them met eyes, the sudden tension flooding the room. He didn't need to ask why; Jess had told him everything he needed to know about his trips to the island with his behavior during their stay. </p><p> </p><p>"You can come if you want." Jesse blurted, practically spitting out the words in one string of syllables. He flushed pink, wincing at himself.</p><p> </p><p>"Sure." Danse said without a second thought. He didn't want Jesse to be alone. Not when he had an idea of what that place was to the man. "I could stand to get away before Sturges puts me on windmill maintenance. I'll go pack."</p><p> </p><p>"Sounds good." Jesse's voice cracked as he smiled, his eyes betraying whatever optimism he performed. "Let me know when you're ready to go."</p><p> </p><p>"Alright. See you in a bit." Danse nodded, turned to leave. </p><p> </p><p>He couldn't help but feel like everything in that conversation was artificial. </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>It was the morning after they made it to the island, docked the boat and settled in again. </p><p> </p><p>His priority stopped being to get rid of his affections, and started being to try and figure out what the hell happened to Jess. On the first day, Jesse was barely able to speak above a whisper, flinched whenever he said his name. Danse had worried himself sick. This man who he had unknowingly fallen for had to have gone through something recently, something awful. If this was a regular spell, that was even worse, so it was out of the question; if not for the sole purpose of Danse not vomiting in sympathy. </p><p> </p><p>He couldn't help but feel selfish. Jesse came here to be alone, to let his walls fall down without that careful General Boswel persona being known as a mask of ideals. This was Jesse's space, and he came along when the man was about to shatter. But Jesse seemed to want the company - wanted to not be alone when he was like this. Danse couldn't blame him. Even if he tiptoed around him and shrunk whenever they were in the same room, Jesse was a man who hated being alone. At least Danse could provide that comfort. </p><p> </p><p>That morning, Jesse woke up bright and early, went down to the docks when the sun was just coming over the horizon and stripped down. When Danse asked what kind of show he was giving the Mirelurks, Jesse laughed. It was soft, and he blushed rosy, but then he paused. Said he swam to forget his troubles. Said that swimming laps around the island was the only thing he had to stop the hurting. And as if that didn't pluck at Danse's heartstrings enough, Jess invited him along. Dared him to a race. </p><p> </p><p>He'd grown far too soft, evidently, because the moment the offer left Jesse's lips, his heart started bouncing up and down with the implications. The silent, unspoken sentiments Danse was sure he was making up.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> "This is something personal to me, and I trust you enough that it's okay if you join me." </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> "I am hurting, and want </em> <b> <em>you</em> </b> <em> with me while I try to </em> <b> <em>feel better."</em> </b></p><p> </p><p><em> " </em> <b> <em>You</em> </b> <em> make me feel better." </em></p><p> </p><p>Far too much for him to handle. But he agreed. He was never a swimming kind of guy, but he had the training for it. Jesse <em> was </em> a swimming guy; who knows how long he'd been doing it. He may as well have swam circles around him. By the time Danse finally caught up and pulled himself up onto the docks, Jesse was already drying in the sun. </p><p> </p><p>"I didn't realize you were in the navy." He teased. They sat shoulder to shoulder, Jesse running warm against him even as water dripped down from his hair.</p><p> </p><p>Jesse scoffed. "You already used that joke, negative two points for reused humor." He said, sticking his chin out. Looked like he was feeling better. As if the water washed off the melancholy.</p><p> </p><p>"It's the only one I have that people understand. I don't have a choice but to reuse it." Danse nudged him with an elbow, smiling lopsidely. He tried to not notice how water pooled and ran along Jesse's body, but in that soft morning light, it was damn hard. </p><p> </p><p>"I can count on one hand the amount of times you made it clear when you were joking." Jesse ribbed, leaning against him. "You know we had a scoreboard, yeah? We counted on a notebook how many jokes we were able to identify as humor."</p><p> </p><p>"How is it my fault none of you understand dry sarcasm?" Danse chuckled. "I'll have you know I make plenty of jokes."</p><p> </p><p>"And all of them are executed with your <em> nom de plume </em> seriousness!" Jesse countered, kicking water at him. "You have the most consistent tone of voice I've <em> ever </em> seen and I <em> swear </em> you do it on purpose <em> just </em> to watch people flounder at whether or not <em> you </em> just <em> made a joke </em>."</p><p> </p><p>"Maybe." Danse hummed, "But until you have sufficient evidence, this accusation is equivocal."</p><p> </p><p>Jesse blinked at him. "You S.O.B." He breathed. "You've been grifting us <em> all this time?" </em></p><p> </p><p>"I decline to comment." He turned away, Jesse swatting his shoulder lightly.</p><p> </p><p>The conversation fizzled from there, but...pleasantly. Gave way to the gentle bubbling of the waves against the dock, against the shore. Staring out at that peachy sky and the sea mirroring it, sitting too close to a man he yearned for, half naked and drenched-</p><p> </p><p>It was enough to drive a man to madness. </p><p> </p><p>And there his heart went, fluttering about in his ribcage. </p><p> </p><p>He didn't dare look, lest that dam crumble under that ache. If he stole a glance, he'd be ruined. </p><p> </p><p>The one thing he didn't expect, something he never even heard of from the stories of crushes and flings from anyone, was how utterly stupid the object of his affection seemed.</p><p> </p><p>How did Jesse not know? Surely he did, surely he could see the idolization in his eyes, surely he saw how wonderful he was. Every time Danse looked at him, it was as if Jess wasn't aware of his own virtues. It was infuriating. How? This man had saved him from so many things, showed him so many things, had the bragging right of being the only one to ever draw his heart's attention, and he wasn't aware of it? He wasn't aware of every little thing Danse cherished about him? </p><p> </p><p>He didn't see himself the way he did? </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> How? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It was nonsensical.</p><p> </p><p>He wanted to steal a look, wanted to take in the mess of wet inky hair and strong lines of his bone structure, the soul-piercing eyes, wanted to see him. The pull of his orbit was not to be resisted, not when they were so close they may as well have been colliding. </p><p> </p><p>God, he wanted to<em> touch. </em> Would his skin be soft? Was he warm? Did he feel as fragile as he looked at times? </p><p> </p><p><em> Maddening </em>. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm glad I met you." Came the unintentional confession, slipping past his lips before he could manage it, reject it and hide it away.</p><p> </p><p>Jesse froze for a moment. From the hazy reflection in the water, Danse could see a frown flashing on his face. He straightened quickly. "Feeling is mutual." Jess replied, surprising Danse with the curtness.</p><p> </p><p>He's a damn fool, the dam was broken and there was no stopping the flood. "No, I...I don't think I've gotten a chance to properly thank you. For everything."</p><p> </p><p>Jesse swallowed. "There's no need." </p><p> </p><p>"But there is." He stressed. "I've never been so content, with my life, with myself...and it's because of you." He leaned a little into him, only daring to look at his reflection in the water. "You've cared more for me than anyone else has. I-I spent so long alone in an army of thousands, I just got used to it. But now, knowing you, I…" Danse ran his hands through his hair, trying to slow his mind and stifle the stream of admissions. Everything could fall apart if he wasn't careful, and nothing he was saying was leading to anything short of those fabled three words. "...I can't understand how I ever lived without knowing you." </p><p> </p><p>Jesse sucked in a breath, nodded. "And you don’t need to." He patted his knee with a squeeze, the motion brotherly. "Everyone has your back. That's what matters, now." </p><p> </p><p>Danse nearly shattered at the touch. "But none of them are like you." He blurted, the idiot. </p><p> </p><p>Jesse tensed, and damn it all he was an idiot. "I'm just some guy." He said, brushing off the sentiment. "I can promise you, the others were more impactful in ways you might not have noticed. Preston always tried to include you, Hancock was in your corner the whole time even if he didn't know it-" Jesse's voice cracked. "Hell, your mystery lover might just be God's way of rewarding you. Give others some credit."</p><p> </p><p>"They aren't my-" Danse shook his head, so many new implications to question. "I'm not seeing anyone." He swiftly corrected, heart thundering in his ribcage and Jesse undoubtedly could feel it.</p><p> </p><p>Jesse raised an eyebrow. "I thought you had someone you'd 'gotten close with'? Sounds romantic to me." </p><p> </p><p>Danse swallowed down the sour ball of tragedy. "Well…" He rubbed at the back of his neck. "It isn't mutual." The truth burned as he spat it out. </p><p> </p><p>"I find that impossible to believe." Jesse sputtered. "If you, of all people, have developed enough of a relationship with someone that you've fallen for them, there's no way in hell they don't feel the same."</p><p> </p><p>Danse swore his heart cracked. "They don't. Even if they did, I'm not…" Desirable? Worthy? So many words, so many ways. </p><p> </p><p>"Like fuck you aren't." Jesse snapped, smacking away those hanging words without even needing to hear them. He finally turned to face him. Those eyes locked on him, that glare of love and concern. "You are the most lovely man I've ever met and if your crush can't see that, they're an idiot." </p><p> </p><p>His heart burst from his chest like a bird fleeing a porch it got stuck in. "Lovely?" He repeated, every syllable falling from his tongue awkwardly as stacked plates smashing to the floor. </p><p> </p><p>Jesse flushed unlike anyone had ever flushed before. Bright, bright red, nose and cheeks and ears glowing with it. "N-not like- that wasn't what I-" He fumbled for the words, tripping over his own tongue while Danse stared at him, oblivious to everything as that word echoed in his mind. "I meant more as, you have good qual-"</p><p> </p><p>"You think I'm…lovely?" Danse whispered, in disbelief, eyes wide and heart pleading for him to stop.</p><p> </p><p>'Lovely' wasn't a thing in the wasteland. It didn't exist.</p><p> </p><p>But what felt like the love of his life just called him lovely. He was a big man, covered in hair and scars and rough calluses and with no gentleness in sight. He was gruff and curt and took himself too seriously. He was a soldier with dark, hollow eyes and bloodstained hands.</p><p> </p><p>And Jesse called him lovely. </p><p> </p><p>Jesse sputtered, the embarrassment in his eyes shifting to full-on panic. "I'm- fuck, I'm sorry, I got ahead of myself. I didn't-" He moved away, hurried to put space between them. "I forgot myself, I apologize, it's just-"</p><p> </p><p>"How?" He asked, so quiet it was nearly inaudible.</p><p> </p><p>Jesse's tirade of desperate apologies came to a screeching halt. "How?" He echoed, as the question was redundant.</p><p> </p><p>"I've been called many things but…<em> lovely </em> ," He choked out, "Has never been one of them. In...in <em> what world </em> , am <em> I </em> supposed to be <em> lovely?" </em></p><p> </p><p>“All of them.” Jesse spat, offense dripping from his tongue. The mere question derailed whatever shame he had felt at the description. “Wait, Danse, are you telling me no one has complimented you before?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, no, but never...like that. Only about my combat prowess or engineering skills.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you shitting me?” Jesse hissed, anger flaring in his eyes, “No one has ever told you were lovely? Or anything similar? Only praised what you could do for them?”</p><p> </p><p>He glanced away, afraid of drowning in the tension if he looked in those eyes for much longer. “There’s nothing for them to-”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Jesse’s eye twitched. “Yes there is, you beautiful, stupid man.” He barked, voice rough and shaky. “You’re bursting at the seams with kindness, you’re focused and driven, you have so much intelligence and so many fascinating ideas I could listen to you talk for hours. Every little quirk about you, your speech and fidgeting and awkwardness, everything about you is lovely. You are lovely and I can’t possibly express how sorry I am that no one has said so, because you are everything I have ever adored and you deserve to hear it until you believe it.” Jesse choked, eyes watering and shiny with tears pricking at the corners.</p><p> </p><p>Danse’s heart erupted in his chest. He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t dream of understanding how, couldn’t fathom how he didn’t notice.</p><p> </p><p>He coughed out in a breathless realization, “You love me.”</p><p> </p><p>Jesse flinched, turning away from him to hide his face and the tears falling from it. “Only since I met you.” Came the harsh admission, guilt and shame ravaging the crystalline voice. The sun was higher in the sky, ocean still that lustrous pink and orange, soft and bright and saccharine. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do to you. This was the last thing I ever wanted to do to you. I tried to keep it to myself so we wouldn’t have this issue but-”</p><p> </p><p>“I want this.”</p><p> </p><p>Every function that could have ruined this for himself shut off, let his fluttering heart sing its serenade and let everything he wouldn’t have dreamed of saying go. </p><p> </p><p>Jess paused, blinking. He tilted his head,  one eyebrow raising quizically. “Want what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Us.” He uttered, voice strangled around his own heartstrings. He didn’t dare move, not when Jesse looked so touchable, so in reach. “I want us, Jess. If I had known you felt the same-” Danse shook his head, tossing away the ‘if I had’s and the ‘I should have’s and the ‘if only’s; they were useless, so unimportant in that moment. “I think this could be something. Something amazing. I have to ask you be patient with me, I...I’ve never known…” He gestured to his heart, Jesse staring at him with eyes so bright and awed, “-this, but if it’s with you?”</p><p> </p><p>Danse nodded, breathless and trembling from the inside out with relief, ecstasy, fear, adoration, worry, everything so wonderfully horrid he didn’t know if he wanted to puke in joy or laugh in trepidation. “I want to know this with you.”</p><p> </p><p>Jesse sat frozen, tears falling like stars down his burn-scarred cheeks, grey eyes so clear and open and filled with that toxic, addictive mix of chaotic emotion.</p><p> </p><p>It happened in the blink of an eye, him surging forward and planting their mouths together.</p><p> </p><p>The swirling storm of feeling left him in a rough laugh against Jess’s warm, chapped lips, nothing but blind, stupid adoration filling the void, taking over whatever fear or caution might have consumed him. He pushed back, finding surprisingly hard to kiss with the grin of an idiot, but God, Jess didn’t care. He didn’t care. </p><p> </p><p>One hand around Jesse, pressed on his spine to pull him closer, have as much of him in his space as he could, and Danse was hardly aware of the wet wood of the dock underneath his back as Jess pushed forward, just as overjoyed and clingy and heedless.</p><p> </p><p>The mad, delighted laughter forced his mystery lover to take a breath. Jesse pulled away, bashfully giggling against his cheek. His face was rosy with blush, eyes soft but shaking with vibrance, wet hair sticking to his temples.</p><p> </p><p>“I adore you.” Danse said, airy and lost in his own enamourment. It wasn’t a confession, wasn’t a sweet nothing; it was a realization. An epiphany for himself. Not the ‘I love you’, but an admission of how deeply those roots had grown without him even knowing it.</p><p> </p><p>Jesse’s grin looked like it hurt, bare chests touching and his legs lost in a tangled mess with his own. He leaned down, cupped Danse’s face, and with such tenderness it felt like his heart was about to explode, placed a kiss to the bridge of his nose. “I adore you.” He whispered, pressing their foreheads together. So soft and warm in his arms, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was some higher power, guiding them there to that moment. </p>
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